Closure
by Xenovia77
Summary: Descole recalls the complicated history between him and his sister as he makes an attempt to reconcile. (based on an old popular fan theory)


_hey remember that really really good Pre Azran Legacy theory about who Angela's Archaeologist brother was? This is very much based on that but I make my life difficult by trying to be canon compliant._

**Closure**

Most people don't run away from their home families and change their names. It's far too hard to adjust, and the eventual reunions are near unbearable. But Descole had done it once before, and he was about to do it again.

He sat nervously in the café, looking anxiously at the door every few minutes. He fully expected her to slap him as soon as she entered and made eye contact. At the very least, she wouldn't invite him over for Christmas after all the things he'd done. But he had to make a good impression, she was the only chance at getting a normal life again.

He'd reunited with his brother a few years before, but they'd been travelling together for a while on his airship, and he was pretty sure he was about to die. It seemed wrong to not take the dramatic opportunity. He regretted it afterwards, there was no way he could reclaim that life when his father was arrested. But he was still glad that Theodore knew, they'd been so close as children.

But he was never close to his sister. He hardly thought of her as a sister at all at first. He was raised by her parents after his brother left, the government refused to allow a young child to live alone, and that was all.

The Foster Family.

The hilarity of the name was not lost on him. He felt uncomfortable taking his brother's first name and couldn't go by Hershel anymore. So for a time, his name was Simon Foster. The Foster Family was a nice couple from a town named Stansbury, who had one daughter that was around his brother's age.

'Simon' was civil enough until his early teens, and he and his sister got along as well as most siblings do. She worked almost as a substitute to his real sibling, and he could pretend things were normal. She was louder than Theo, and didn't need to be looked after as much. He was content just keeping an eye on her as she played. But by the time she was 12, he spent nearly every day alone just researching the Civilisation his real parents had discussed for hours on end, plotting out where Targent was heading next. He'd joined local expedition and tour guides, his research had made it clear that there was something Azran related in the area.

His sister would always want to be involved. She'd try and see what he was studying, or ask him to meet her friends (he did once, and he wasn't a fan) or come see her in the football game. At the end of each year she'd ask if he could come and support her in the school play. He'd usually decline, but he did see the play once, since his class was helping. She was playing one of the boy's role and was surprisingly convincing. He'd never tell her he was proud of her, but he was. And he'd never admit that she was the inspiration behind his extensive work on vocal imitations and special effects. He'd started practising characters in front of a mirror, trying to get different accents and ranges down. His sister had spotted him, and teased him mercilessly.

Despite Simon's attempts to fade away from his family, his sister was determined to talk to him. He'd keep his personal life private, but when she was starting high school she was an open book. She'd ramble about people in her class that she apparently had a crush on, not caring how uninterested Simon was. First it was how Mary was the prettiest person she'd ever seen, then it was how Henry was 'really lovely actually', and then that Randall was 'the love of her life'.

He put a hand to his temple, he could feel a migraine coming on even just recalling the name.

Randall Ascot.

Randall Goddamned Ascot.

That boy had caused him nothing but grief as an adult, and even more so as a teenager. A boy who was utterly convinced he was going to make the biggest Archaeological discovery of all time, who would show up on his expeditions and claim he'd solved something that experts hadn't even considered.

He was usually right, which annoyed Simon even more to this day. Where on earth did he find that mask?

It was when the two started dating that Simon stopped talking to his sister altogether. He was getting close to a breakthrough with the Azran, and he couldn't risk those two seeing his research and trying to get involved.

He had always planned to fake his death. He had it all set out, and he knew that he was leaving soon. It was just a matter of when to do it.

Then a certain family moved into town, a certain boy with a penchant for fencing and puzzles, who was all too familiar, and it was time. He left a note about going to explore the local caverns and staged a rock slide using some connections he'd made with less than savoury individuals. He'd even left his bag of unrelated research on the cliffside to make it more believable.

His sister was undoubtably distraught, but he couldn't stick around to find out. He was ruled as missing or dead, depending on who was reporting. The next few years were spent gathering information on Targent, going under the new name of Desmond Sycamore. Desmond was more fun than Simon, more outgoing. Despite their visual similarities, his new mannerisms and voice made him very difficult to recognise. He'd worked a lot more of his imitations of characters, and a charismatic Archaeologist allowed him easy access to excavation sites and Grand openings.

The only thing he didn't anticipate was the fame. The character of Descole soon came along as a way to hide. A few thrifted costume items and a mysterious persona gave him the freedom to focus on things that would be deemed too unjust for Desmond Sycamore. Things like breaking into museums and stealing artefacts to research. Nothing truly evil, but things that would raise some eyebrows in the archaeologist Community.

In this time he met his sole confidant, Raymond, who was the only person alive that knew both of his personas. A few years later, he gave up the Double life, his wife and Daughter became his world. But that couldn't last. Desmond felt as if it was punishment for abandoning his other families. As if the world believed he was about to change his name and disappear again, he couldn't cope with caring about people. 'Freak Accident' the papers said. of course. He knew what a fake rockslide was supposed to look like, he'd created one himself.

The news of their death instilled a rage in him, and his petty thefts and trespassing became heists and assaults. He would do anything in his power to find the Azran- just to stop Targent from having the satisfaction.

By that point, Descole was the main part of his personality. He no longer wanted to be cautious and civil. He wanted revenge, he wanted people to feel the loss he had. He wanted to leave every part of his many lives behind and live in the shadows and live as a legend.

But as always, life seemed to have a way to mess with his plans. First his brother showed up in Misthallery, and he narrowly avoided being discovered. He wasn't ready to reunite yet, the wounds of his most recent family were still sore. He got out of there with Theodore none the wiser. The Crown Petone was once again a close call, but it went as planned.

And then, his research led him to the Chamber of Akbadain. And his sister was right there, pining and searching for some fool she'd lost. He bit his tongue when he heard the name of who they were hunting for and slipped back into his persona as Desmond Sycamore for the first time in years to greet her. She didn't seem to recognise him, though she admitted that her old boyfriend had been a big fan of his in the past. Of course he had.

He made the decision to join a Research expedition down into the ruins in hopes of locating the Real Masks of Chaos and Order (He knew the one in his sister's home was fake. Any real Archaeologist would be able to tell.) While the other members of his party feebly wandered round, trying to kill time and pick up some money for their time, he took the initiative to follow a river that lead away from the main chambers. He was certain there was more to the Chambers than everyone else had found.

Weeks later he'd returned with Raymond and mining Equipment. The mask was down there. And he would find it.

And he did. Sat on the desk of a redheaded farmer. The man, Lando, was all too familiar to him. His face was much older, but there was no mistaking it. He was alive, and he was naïve.

But he couldn't see the other Mask. The boy didn't understand what he meant when he asked about it, he claimed that there was just one mask.

So facing a dead end, he looked to another solution. The plan was easy enough to put together. He knew how close Randall Ascot and his friends were, even with his disinterest in the conversations he knew his sister had never shut up about them, he'd picked up a couple of things. It was simple to twist the truth into something malicious. He learned harsh rumours about the Ledores from the townsfolk of Monte D'Or and created a false history that fuelled the anger.

He penned a letter, signed Jean Descole, and sparked revenge in a boy who'd lost everything he'd cared about. The chance to come back as someone new and terrorise the people who'd wronged you? That was Descole's livelihood. It was thrilling to introduce someone else to the concept. The theatrics of the masked Gentleman and the Miracles were all part of the fun.

It was halfway through their plan when he realised he'd need a way to be involved with the investigation, he was certain the Ledores had taken the Mask of Order, and he needed a way to get close to it. But going in as Desmond was too risky, if he had to reveal himself then his persona was unusable. So much like in Misthallery, he began researching people he could portray.

The other hotel owner was an option, but nobody seemed to trust him. Emmy Altava? Layton knew her far too well, he'd see right through it. The Hotel Clerk? There's no way he'd have access to the house.

But there was one person in town he knew, someone with easy access to the mansion. And more importantly, someone he could easily impersonate.

His sister was angry at him when she was kidnapped, understandably. But to be fair, she'd been locked in the penthouse of the Reunion inn, it could definitely be worse.

Creating the disguise was difficult, it always was. But imitating someone you'd grown up with, Descole found, was very simple. He knew her vocal patterns, he understood her body language, he could answer any questions about her past. Nobody would be able to tell the difference.

His sister reluctantly told him that Henry was the only one who knew where the other Mask was, she'd never seen it. He sought out Henry and asked, but he feigned ignorance every time. Descole could feel his disguise slipping as he got angry, he tried to cover it by acting more romantically towards her husband, but this seemed to raise more suspicion.

Of course it was Layton who figured it out, why wouldn't it be? And he'd been this close to getting the Masks.

What he didn't count on was his sister's similar proficiency at deception and performance. She'd lied about the other mask, and when Layton had helped her break out the room, she'd gone and stolen one of his spare disguises. She knew the Hotel staff better than he did, and she'd pulled off the hotel clerk flawlessly. Descole couldn't help but feel outshined.

He considered revealing everything right there. His siblings were both in one place, everyone seemed to be sharing their stories, it seem narratively perfect. But there'd be another time for that. He was sure of it.

But that time never came.

After the Azran Quest, where he'd revealed himself to his brother, he was forced to leave his personas behind. He went under the radar for several years, travelling around the world with Raymond . But he missed the world of Archaeology, and without Targent he had no need to seek revenge. He found himself missing the small town expeditions and finding lost treasures. Eventually his dear butler passed away, the one person who fully knew him, and he found himself alone at the helm of the Bostonius.

He couldn't stay as a reclusive man hiding in the shadows. looked to the various versions of himself to figure out how he would move on.

Hershel Bronev didn't exist.

Desmond Sycamore was disgraced.

Descole was Dead.

There was only one option, and so Simon Foster, the boy who'd been missing for 25 years, returned as if nothing had happened. He refused to explain where he'd been, claiming he couldn't remember. (a fun ploy he'd learned from his time with The Masked Gentleman)

He was sad to find his adopted parents had died in the time he'd been gone, he hadn't been able to keep track of everyone in his past. He hadn't considered the possibility that some wouldn't make it. His real father was in jail, and it was unlikely he'd be out anytime soon. His brother was world famous now, and constantly on unplanned trips, it had been impossible to get a letter to him.

But his sister was still around, living happily in the town he'd last seen her.

He was anxious to send the letter, knowing fully well that she could easily decline. He would never admit that he was afraid of the possibility.

When he'd heard no response, he began to feel foolish in his attempts to reconcile. He'd made it very obvious that it was truly him who sent the letter, referencing things from their shared childhood that only the two of them would know, just to dispel any theories that it was a cruel prank. She'd explained his relationship with his brother, and recounted the time he'd met her again as someone else.

But perhaps she'd had enough of the lies and the deception. Maybe this silence was her way of saying she wasn't interested in finding him again.

But a letter eventually came. Short, precise, inviting him to meet in Monte D'Or. It was a lot more effort on his part to travel, but he knew he probably deserved that. He was the one who had to make an effort now.

So there he was, sat in the café she'd specified. It was small, out of the way. He expected it was nothing like the posh world she was used to. He'd tried to dress more casually to help her be at ease, remove some of the awkwardness. It was unusual for him to be back in this persona. Simon was more reserved, more average. A man you could pass on the street and not even notice. There was none of the Theatrics or Charisma of his other lives, but at this point he just wanted to exist.

The door to the café swung open, and she entered. Calm but not happy, dressed less formally than he'd last seen her. The reaction when she saw him was unreadable, but she approached the table.

"Hello Angela."

"Which name would you like me to use?" she asked as she sat down, she made eye contact and he felt immediately less comfortable. "Descole? Desmond? Weren't you a Hershel at one point?"

"Simon will be fine. It's the one I'm going by nowadays."

"Hm." She called the waiter over and ordered a tea. She was quiet until it arrived, studying his face and catching his gaze occasionally. She sipped the drink slowly before speaking again. "I cried every night after you left."

"I'm very sorry. I had business I needed to attend to."

"I was 15. I thought you were dead. Do you know what that does to a kid?"

"I never intended to cause you harm, I had things going on that you didn't understand. It was too dangerous for you to get involved." Angela laughed, though it was incredulous in tone.

"Didn't seem to have a problem involving me when you convinced my boyfriend that I'd betrayed him." He shuffled awkwardly in his seat, the Monte D'Or debacle was something he was dreading discussing. Even now he was disgusted in how he'd acted, but he'd not been in a good place when it happened. He tried to block a lot of his Descole life out.

"How is Randall?"

"He's fine. But he threw out his glasses the second he figured out who Professor Sycamore was." She leaned in close to him, glaring. "There's still things he gets wrong you know, things you told him that he sometimes thinks are true. What you did to him was appalling. And the _years _Henry had to spend rebuilding what you destroyed." Simon couldn't tell if she was speaking metaphorically or literally, Descole had broken trust as often as he'd broken windows.

"I can only apologise." He sighed. There was truly no way to explain himself without bringing up his past. "There are things that happened that… changed me as a person. I lost so much and I went too far, and I just need a chance to start over. My life with your family, it was normal. It was uneventful. It's a place I can build from, where nobody will think ill of me."

"I will.".

Part of his mind was telling him to just leave now, it wasn't worth the effort. If she didn't want to be siblings then there was no forcing her. He could easily live out his life alone. But he needed closure, on at least one chapter of his life.

"I know we weren't close, but I want to try and make it right."

"Do you plan to talk to Hershel as well, or am I the favourite sibling?" she added the last bit sarcastically.

"…I'm not sure. That's a different case altogether. My estrangement to him was unplanned." He bit his lip, Angela stirred her tea. "I should've been more involved as your brother, but I'd already come to love a family and they were taken from me. I wanted them back, and so I distanced myself from you. And as soon as I was older and finally found a way to actually love someone else, I lost them as well."

"Well I've found people that I love, and I don't know how you'll fit into that life."

"Just give me the chance. Didn't you give _him_ the benefit of the doubt?"

"It was a different situation." She said harshly. "But." She held up a finger. "If you're willing to try… I am as well."

"I won't let you down."

"But the momen_t _you even _consider_ hurting the people I love again, I'll throw you down the Akbadain ruins myself, understand?" Simon laughed, though he was sure the threat was very real. "And I swear to god if you fake another-"

"I won't. I'm Simon Foster from now on. That is my only identity. I promise." He held up his palm and she smiled, the first genuine smile he'd seen from her in years.

"Good. Then I'll be happy to introduce you as my weird older brother who likes to play dress up." She smirked. Simon was taken aback, she'd shifted demeanour quickly and it'd thrown him off. There was a smirk there that he recognised from his childhood.

"It's not- You know that's not what it was! It was professional and exceptionally difficult."

"Well what do you call putting on my spare dress and heels? Just wait until the tabloids hear."

"This is why I never wanted a little sister." He head fell into his hands. Angela chucked, he was happy the tension was broken, even if it was at his expense. "I'm gonna show you up at every high class event you go to."

"You wish you could get into those events." She was still grinning as she spoke, but her voice dropped into a more serious tone "It'll be difficult, But I think we can make it work." He looked at her, and he could almost see the rosy faced 10 year old asking him to come watch her in the school play. He was ready to be the brother he was meant to be.

"I hope we can."

_**(if any timeline stuff is off please don't tell me, I'm bad at maths and haven't played AL in a while, this was an nightmare to figure out)**_

_**Bless Layton for giving their characters different names in english so i can always use their original ones as an alias.**_


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